The driver wore a tux and held the back door open for us to get in. I slid in first, sliding across to the driver’s side. Gage slid in beside me, and the driver closed the door.
Butterflies sprang up in my stomach. I’d been racking my brain all day trying to figure out what kind of surprise would require us going to a five-star restaurant and pulling out all the stops like he was. There was only one thing it could be, and if it turned out to be anything else, I’d already told myself I was going to stab him to death right there at the table. When they asked me why I did it, I would just tell them he drove me crazy, and that I was already hormonal because of a surprise I’d been keeping from him for about a month or so.
I had been waiting for the perfect time to tell him, and it never seemed to be right. There was always something else going on. Tonight, I told myself.
“What are you thinking about?” Gage asked, jerking me out of my thoughts. I realized I’d been staring out the window.
“Just thinking about what your surprise is going to be, thinking about what I want it to be,” I answered him, perhaps a little too honestly, but I’d been after him about it long enough now that I felt like it didn’t matter. I felt like he should have expected the comments and suggestions at this point.
“Well, I hope I don’t disappoint you tonight.” He turned and looked forward.
Then again, if it wasn’t a ring, my insistence on wanting a ring from him would probably just serve to make him think I was disappointed when it turned out to be something else. I grabbed his arm and pulled myself close to him.
“I don’t care what it is, baby. You know I’ll be happy with whatever you get me, because it’s from you. I don’t want you to think that’s all I want, okay? I’m just messing with you.” I put a finger under his chin and turned his face to mine.
I kissed him in the backseat of the car. Our lips worked together passionately, and our mouths opened. I could taste his breath as his tongue probed into my mouth. I even tried to judge by the way he was kissing me if it was going to be a ring or not. His kiss was deeply passionate, the controlling way he kissed me when his desire was hard between his legs.
I took his passion as a good sign and kissed him back, answering his passion and desire with my own. I dug my hand into his hair. I squeezed my legs together in my tight little skirt, trying to contain the wet, aching desire growing between them.
I didn’t want to go to dinner anymore. I wanted him to tell the driver to pull over into a dark, abandoned parking lot so we could make love in the backseat of the car like a couple of horny teenagers after prom, eager to explore each other’s bodies and enjoy the love they felt for each other.
I just wanted him inside me again. It had been over a year, and every time I saw him, every time I kissed him, every time we touched, I wanted to fuck his brains out. I reached down between his legs and rubbed the hardening shaft behind the thin fabric.
He grabbed my thin wrist gently and pulled away from our kiss.
“Not yet, baby,” he said with a suggestive laugh. “You can’t have dessert before your dinner.”
“Oh, so that’s dessert?” I asked him. “So you must be pretty sure of this surprise of yours,” I teased.
It was a damn ring. I knew it. There was no way it could have been anything else. I felt myself throbbing for him now. I could feel my heart pulsing inside of me. He was going to propose to me at dinner. I knew it! I just had to play dumb until after he popped the question, or else I risked ruining his surprise. I wanted him to think I was really surprised.
Hell, I was already surprised that he was even thinking about it. I didn’t know he’d even been planning it, sneaky bastard. But that was okay. I was going to floor him with my own surprise after he asked me to marry him. Of course I was going to say yes. I was going to scream it in the restaurant and again all night in bed as he pumped me full of himself again and again to celebrate our engagement and our growing family.
Damn it. I didn’t want to go to dinner. I wanted to skip the restaurant and the food. I wanted to go home, let him propose to me under the night sky and then make sweet, passionate love all night with the love of my life.
The car slowed, and we pulled up to the curb in front of a brightly lit hotel underneath an old, prestigious hotel. The walls of the restaurant were all glass in front, and I could see the bright gold and white light and linens inside.
Yep, I thought, he’s about to propose to me, and then I’m going to whisper in his ear that we’re pregnant.